Lover Undercover
by allikitty699
Summary: When Shawn and Gus find an old box in Henry's attic, they realize that Henry and Lassiter share more than a workspace - they share a complicated past. Slash. Rent boy fic. Past Henry/Lassie. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Allow me to explain. XD**

**This idea popped into my head a couple months ago, and I haven't been able to get rid of it. I kinda like Henry/Lassie – not as much as Shassie, but I like it. I also love writing about Lassie as a teenager; I think he was much less reserved and buttoned-down than he is now, and I think that he would be really embarrassed by that.**

**So far, here's what's going down: I am planning on there being smut. There are points in the story where Lassie and Henry are sexually involved while Lassie is still under the age of eighteen. This is by no means PWP, but it _is_ a rentboy fic, meaning sexual situations are pretty much impossible to avoid. I have no idea if there will be any present-day relationship between Lassie and Henry by the end. So far, I don't think there will be, but I will have to see how the story develops. So far, the only present-day ship will be Shules, and it won't be focused on. **

**As for WARNINGS: Sexual situations (sometimes involving minors), cursing, possible mention of rape, self-harm, and/or drug use. **

**I really hope you guys like this idea as much as I do, and please forgive me for the first couple chapters; I've never really written Gus and Shawn alone before, so let me know what I can do to improve that. Also, forgive the very long AN. = _ =**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Psych, or any other publicly recognizable figures or copyrighted material. The title comes from a KGB song. **

Undercover Lover

"Shawn, I don't think we should be going through your dad's stuff."

"Gus, don't be a kangaroo with no pouch." Shawn kicked aside yet another box. He had no idea how his dad managed to get around the attic with so much crap in it. "I'm looking for _my_ stuff. Remember when he tried to give away my _Airwolf_ jacket?"

"That was my _Airwolf_ jacket, Shawn!" Gus snapped, tripping after his friend. "I told you that!"

"I've heard it both ways," Shawn said, overturning a box of Christmas lights. "The point is, Gus, I won't get burned again."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Fine. But when your dad gets mad at you for rifling through his attic when he's not home, be sure to tell him that it was _not_ my idea."

"After I tell him he has no right to be angry at me for wanting to get my personal belongings before he donates them to thumbless orphans or something." Shawn frowned and tore open another box. "Why does he even let me store stuff here if he's gonna give it away?"

"He _doesn't_ let you store stuff here. You just keep breaking in and dropping it off when you can't find room for it."

"Yeah, well, now that I'm moving in with Jules, I need it back," Shawn said with a shrug, tossing the box away. "As long as you're here, you might as well help me look."

Gus sighed. He hated to admit it, but he kind of saw the point his partner was making. He started rifling through boxes, his eyes finally landing on a particularly dusty and weather-beaten one. "Look at this! It's deplorable. What exactly is your dad's definition of cleaning? Leaving this around has got to be a safety hazard."

"Yes, Gus! The horrors of old boxes! I hope he doesn't feed it after midnight!"

"I'm serious, Shawn! Do you know what kind of bacteria could be in this?"

"He probably just overlooked it last time he was cleaning. What does it say on it?"

Gus squinted at the faded Sharpie label. "Booker."

Shawn frowned. "Booker? What's a Booker?"

"I don't know, Shawn. Booker T. Washington?"

"Why would my dad have a box dedicated to the guy who invented the printing press?"

"That was Johannes Gutenberg, Shawn. I'm pretty sure you could literally not be more wrong. Aren't you ever ashamed of your ignorance?"

Shawn didn't answer, just grabbed the box and started working at the yellowing packing tape. He ignored Gus's frantic reprimands and pulled it open. "Look at this. What's my dad doing with all these photo albums?" He pulled out a large stack of the offending materials and wrinkled his nose. "This is the guy who wouldn't even put my high school senior photo on the mantle because I looked like a 'hippie.'"

"Judd Nelson looks like a hippie?"

"Everyone looks like a hippie in Henry's world." Shawn opened the album and frowned. "Huh. This is weird. It's a bunch of pictures of…" He turned the page and almost instantly tossed the album away with a scream.

"What? What was it? Was it black mold? _I told you it was a health hazard!"_

"I wish it had been black mold!" Shawn said shakily. "Then I wouldn't have to live for fifty more years with that image burned into my brain!"

Gus gave an exasperated sigh. "Oh please, Shawn. Stop being so overdramatic. I'm sure it's not that bad." He picked up the album and flipped to the second page. With a shout of "oh my GOD!" he whipped it at the opposite wall. It fell to the floor, looking for all the world like an innocent photo album.

The two men stared at each other in horrified silence. After several stunned moments, Gus sank to the floor. "That was your dad."

"Yeah."

"In a very compromising position."

"Yeah.

"With _another guy._"

"… Yeah."

"Why would he have a picture of that?"

Shawn glared. "Why do most people keep that stuff around, Gus? It's because my dad is an old pervert, that's why!"

Gus shook his head, eyes wide. "That man needs Jesus." He looked at Shawn, who had his face buried in his hands. "You okay?"

"Thoroughly not, Gus." Shawn looked out through the cracks in his fingers. "Did that other guy look familiar to you at all?"

"I didn't exactly take time to study his face, Shawn!"

"Lucky you."Shawn stood and grabbed the album. He held it grimly toward his best friend. "Because if you had, you would know that the other guy was none other than our favorite grumpy detective, Carlton 'Lassie' Lassiter."

"What?" Gus shook his head. "No. It can't be."

"It is, Gus. That's a picture of my dad sticking it to Lassie."

"There's no way! They don't even like each other!"

"What do you want me to say, Gus? I'm not happy about it either, but I know what I saw. And what I saw was my father – the man who gave me life – having sex with a guy we have to see almost every single week." Shawn tossed the album on the floor, looking sick to his stomach. "The two people I least wanted to see naked, and they decided to document their gross sex."

"But it doesn't make any sense," Gus protested. "I mean, they didn't even know each other back then. How would they have… done _that?_"

"Well, Lassie was working at the SBPD at the same time as my dad for a little while," Shawn replied, still staring down at the offending album. "Maybe it was then."

"Does the photo have a date on the back?"

Shawn glared. "You can't be serious. You really think I'm going to look at that again?"

"You don't have to look at _that_ one. There were pictures on the first page that weren't that bad, right? Look on the back of one of those."

"You do it," Shawn said stubbornly.

"Me? Why me?"

"Because he's not your dad! Plus, you're the one who couldn't keep his stupid hands off the stupid box!"

Again, Gus could kind of see where his friend was coming from.

With a look of utmost disgust on his face, Gus grabbed a corner of the cover with two fingers and tugged it toward him. Looking up at the ceiling, he opened it to the first page and - with a lot of awkward, blind maneuvering – pulled one of the photos out of the clear casing. He chanced a look down at it. To his great relief, there was nothing romantic about it; it merely showed a younger Henry in a heavy coat, snow sticking to his blonde hair, and standing next to what was unmistakably a smirking young Lassiter. He flipped it over – the other side was labeled, in Henry's neat scrawl, "New York winter trip, 1987."

"1987?" Shawn frowned. "That doesn't seem right. We went to his 38th birthday part. Remember, that one where he pulled his gun on everybody?"

"And that was in 2007," Gus frowned. He squinted at the photo, doing calculations in his head. "If he was 38 in 2007, then he was born in 1969, which means…" He looked over at Shawn. "He was 18 in this picture."

Both men looked at each other for a moment before throwing out identical "ewwww"s and shuddering.

"So not only did Henry hook up with Lassie, he robbed the cradle to do it," Gus said, shaking his head. "That's messed up."

"'Messed up'?" Shawn repeated. "Dude, nothing will ever be okay again. I have to move and change my name and grow a beard now. Just so I can try to forget that I'm related to the man who slept with Lassie."

"I just don't get it," Gus marveled. "Look at this picture. They took a _trip _together. They weren't just hooking up, they were a serious couple. And this picture was taken in the winter, meaning, at most, it was a year after Lassie turned 18. Either they moved really fast, or…"

"Or my dad is creepier than I could ever imagine." Shawn sank to the floor, looking faint. "That's it. I think my heart's about to give in. I'm dying."

"You are not dying, Shawn."

"I am! There's a bright light. I'm going to walk towards it."

"Shawn…"

"I think I can see my Aunt Clara!"

"Your Aunt Clara is still alive, Shawn."

"I know. That's why it's so weird to see her here."

Gus slapped the hand that Shawn was extending toward the invisible "bright light." "Will you get it together? We have to figure out what's going on!"

"I wouldn't say we _have_ to," Shawn hedged, but Gus cut him off.

"Your dad slept with Lassie. While he was still married to your mom. And possibly while Lassie was underage. You really think this doesn't warrant some line of questioning?"

Shawn gave a groan of pure misery. "Okay, okay, fine. You're right." He stood and fixed his face into a pout. "But you're buying me a smoothie on the way. Because you've upset me."

"I buy you a smoothie every other day, Shawn."

Shawn started to descend down the ladder that led out of the attic. "Well, that's because you're a very upsetting presence."

Gus sighed. He was going to have to call in sick to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: A HUGE thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and/or put this story on their alert list! For the fans of Henry and Lassie – I hope you guys like my take on their relationship. For those of you who haven't read this ship before or are feeling skeptical of it – thank you so much for giving this fic a chance, and I hope you like it!**

**This chapter is basically a continuation of the introduction. After this, it'll pick up and we'll get to the real story.**

Chapter Two

The first thing Shawn and Gus saw upon entering the bullpen was Lassiter, standing across the room and scowling irritably at a working Henry. "You moved my desk again, Spencer."

Henry looked up over his reading glasses. He glanced at the tabletop. "Looks fine to me."

"Look!" Lassiter pointed to a tiny mark he'd made on the support beam beside the two desks. "That line was perfectly matched up with the edge of my desk yesterday. Now, it's at _least_ two centimeters in front of it."

"Yeah, Lassiter," Henry said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I did that. Because I just love hearing you bitch. Why would I move your desk? Really, what would be my motive?"

"To annoy me. To assert power. To make yourself feel important. Because you're a crazy old man."

"_I'm _the crazy one?"

"Are you sure they weren't trying to kill each other in the picture?" Gus asked quietly, watching the two snipe at each other. Shawn shook his head, clearly embarrassed for the two.

"Shawn?" Juliet made her way across the room with a frown. "What are you doing here? You're not on any cases."

"What?" Shawn said with a grin. "I can't stop by and say hello to the most beautiful woman in the world?"

Juliet smiled and Gus, seeing that Shawn was going into Flirt Mode (which, once initiated, was impossible for him to break out of), added, "And by the most beautiful woman in the world, he means Lassiter. Are you guys busy?"

"Not really. We don't have any cases going." Juliet raised an eyebrow at him. "Is something wrong, Gus? You look a little… disturbed."

Shawn, snapping out of his apparent trance, winced. "That's because he is, Jules. As am I. In fact, I would say I'm about eight times more disturbed than he is. He's being a wimp. I'm a tragic hero."

"Of course you are." Juliet looked at Lassiter (who was now attempting to shove his desk back into its "rightful" place while Henry pushed adamantly back). "Wow, he really is in a bad mood. Good luck, guys."

"Luck?" Shawn spread out his arms. "Jules, please. When you have this much finesse, you don't need luck."

Shawn's Finesse-O-Meter must have been broken, because the second Henry saw him, he snapped, "No, Shawn. No. Get out."

"Dad…"

"I said _no._ We don't have any cases right now, and I'm not lending you money. Leave."

"You can't possibly consider that I might have another reason for being here?" Shawn asked. "That hurts, Dad. It really does. I'm your son, and you have no faith in me."

"The fact that you're my son is _why_ I have no faith in you. I know you too well," Henry said. He smirked at Lassiter, who had given up on the fight and fallen into his chair with a sullen expression. "You expect me to believe you're here to socialize?"

Gus stepped in. "That's actually not entirely wrong. Shawn and I have to talk to you and Lassiter about some… personal business."

Lassiter looked up with a frown. "Me? What do you need to talk to me about?"

"Personal business." Shawn pointed at Gus. "That's what he just said."

"What personal business?" Lassiter pried. "We're not friends. "

"Well, we're kind of friends," Shawn said.

"No, we are not."

"A little bit."

"No."

"Teeeeeeeeny bit."

"Spencer –"

"Could we get to the point, please?" Henry barked.

"We will," Gus promised. "But not here. Are any of the interrogation rooms free?"

"Guster, if you think we're going to do some big song and dance for you two clowns, you are sadly mistaken," Lassiter said, his words clipped, as he booted up his laptop. "Unlike you oversized first graders, we have actual work to do."

"Fine." Shawn reached into Gus's bag and pulled out the album, tossing it on Henry's desk. "I just thought you might be interested in this."

Henry frowned at the plain, black, vinyl cover. He flipped it open to the middle, and his eyes widened. He slammed it closed, and his face flushed. "Alright," he said quietly. "We'll go with you."

"Speak for yourself," Lassiter grumbled. "I'm not going to indulge their idiocy."

Henry leaned forward and pushed Lassiter's laptop closed. When Lassiter opened his mouth to object, clearly enraged, he murmured, "You're going to want to see this."

The two stared each other down, Henry calm and determined, Lassiter pink-faced and furious. Just when Gus was thinking he should call his boss and let him know that his "grandmother with the two broken hips" was suddenly doing much better and he could, in fact, do his route that day, Lassiter stood abruptly, pushing his chair back. "Fine," he hissed. He glared at Shawn. "Don't waste my time, Spencer."

"I can't make any promises, Lassie," Shawn said, grabbing the album and leading the way to the interrogation rooms. "I think you know how much I enjoy the sweet, melodic tone of my own voice. Sure, it might lead to the occasional string of bizarre rambling, but really, isn't that a small price to pay to listen to _this_ beauty?"

Henry shoved his son into the first room they came across. Once everyone was inside, he locked the door behind him and settled into one of the chairs. Gus and Shawn followed suit, leaving Lassiter to stand uncomfortably by himself beside the door. "Take a seat," Henry advised him, voice heavy with dread. "You're going to want to be sitting down for this."

Lassiter frowned, but did as he was told, sitting beside Henry. "Well?" he asked. "What did you drag us down here for?"

"Good question, Lassie," Shawn replied. "And let me answer that with another one." He tossed the album in the middle of the table. "Would you mind explaining this?"

Lassiter gave him a skeptical look, as though afraid the tiny book was rigged with some sort of explosive. He gingerly pulled it toward him and flipped to the first page. "What the…" He turned the page and paled, eyes wide. "What – how – but – you _son of a bitch!" _he yelled, turning to Henry. "You kept these?!"

"Now, listen," Henry began, but Lassiter shouted over him.

"Why would you keep these, you pervert?! What the hell is wrong with you? You were a Goddamn detective! You should know better than to leave stuff like this laying around!"

"I didn't leave it 'laying around!' I had it in a sealed box in my attic!"

"_You shouldn't have had it at all, you idiot!" _

"Whoah, whoah, whoah!" Shawn hammered on the table loud enough to silence the two bickering cops. "Focus, guys! I asked a question!"

"And we're not answering it," Lassiter growled, holding the album close to his chest. "This is between Henry and me. It has nothing to do with either of you. So I suggest you both go home and forget you ever saw this."

"I would if I could, Lassie," Shawn said. He shuddered slightly. "Unfortunately, I never forget."

"Besides," Gus added, "that's not all there was. There's a whole box full of photos and video tapes."

"Video tapes?" Lassiter stared at Henry, shaking with anger. "You kept the video tapes, too?"

Henry didn't answer. His gaze turned sharp and shrewd as he looked at his son. "What do you want, Shawn?"

"I want – _deserve_ – an explanation." Shawn leaned forward, glaring at his father. "At least one of those pictures is from when you and Mom were still married. I want to know what could have possibly happened to make you think cheating on her was a good idea."

"I didn't cheat on her," Henry said instantly.

Shawn snorted, and Gus said, "You slept with someone else while you were married to her. What else would you call that?"

Henry and Lassiter exchanged weary glances. "That's a long story, Shawn," Henry said, clearly uncomfortable.

Shawn leaned back, kicking his feet up on the table and lacing his fingers behind his head with a stoic expression. "I don't know about you, but I've got time." It was more of a dare than anything else.

Henry sighed. "You wanna explain?" he asked Lassiter.

"God, no."

Henry threw his hands up in exasperation. "Okay, fine." He rubbed his eyes. "It all started when Maddie and I started having problems…"

**A/N: I know, I did the cliché fade-out with ellipses. I am so sorry. Please R+R anyway! **


End file.
